


Dysfunctional

by Ultronerd



Category: BBC Sherlock, MorMor - Fandom, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt, M/M, Mild Language, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4344620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultronerd/pseuds/Ultronerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seb is exhausted and ready to snap, but did he really expect Jim to just accept his lashing out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dysfunctional

Seb was furious. 

Why? Why him? Why was he stuck with this insufferable _brat_ of a boss? He could easily find a new employer, someone who would properly appreciate his skill. He didn't know why he hadn't already. 

Oh. Right. Because Jim would kill him. 

It was a Sunday morning. A very early Sunday morning. 3:55am to be exact, and Sebastian had just about had enough of being told where to go and what to do; it was always the same. He would always perch on a building or in a tree and wait for his prey to wander over before blowing their brains out as instructed. His loyalty and obedience was why Jim kept him around, of course, because it meant he was reliable, but by god was Seb nearing the end of his tether. 

Four days. It had been four days since his last sleep, and honestly, Seb was likely a little delusional from his own tiredness. Perhaps that was why he had done it; his brain wasn't working properly, exhausted to its core, and so he had lashed out. Specifically, he had lashed out at Jim. 

It started when Seb hit the mattress. It was so comforting, so welcoming (thanks to the expensiveness of it) that the soft, plushness beneath him lulled the sniper into an immediate sleep, embracing him with contentment. He hadn't even stayed awake long enough to take his shoes off, nor his clothes, which meant that the white covers were immediately stained by the blood soaked into his shirt. It wasn't Seb's blood, obviously, so he himself wasn't all that bothered about it. 

He was bothered, however, when there was someone tugging at his shirt and shaking his shoulders moments after he had fallen into unconsciousness. Seb was a light sleeper, and so his eyes snapped open quickly (though his reflexes had slowed down due to his exhaustion) and landed on the short, dark-haired Irishman who owned him. 

It was the last straw, so to speak. 

"Jim." Seb spoke slowly, clearly, fury bubbling in his tone. "What the _fuck_ are you _doing?!"_ He bellowed the last word, a vein in his temple throbbing with his annoyance. Said annoyance soon hesitated when Seb registered the look on Jim's pale face. 

The criminal mastermind's expression had gone from mildly surprised to blank and cold, though Seb could spot the undeniable anger from a mile away. Yet his sleepy mind didn't seem too bothered by it, and so the blond foolishly stared his boss down. 

"Excuse me?" Jim spoke eventually, his black holes of eyes meeting Seb's blue ones which faltered in their determination momentarily. His resolve wavered at the look on Jim's face, and he swallowed instead of replying. 

_"Excuse me?"_ Jim tried again, but this time his voice was a low snarl. His hand shot up to grab Seb's throat when he again got no reply, pushing his thumb and index finger into pressure points which made the sniper's eyes widen as he fought his instinct to cringe away. "You do not speak to me like that, Moran. If I want you awake, you wake up. You _don't_ disrespect me." 

The patronising tone which Jim spoke with did not bode well with Seb's temper, and soon his hand had raised and roughly pried Jim's away from his throat. 

"No." Seb growled, "no, you listen here you little brat." Jim's eyes darkened considerably at the insult, but the gunman was too riled up to notice the danger in his partner's gaze, so he continued before his boss could retaliate. "You can't fucking treat me this way. I'm your second in command, and I _will_ be treated as such. You won't fucking send me on four day missions and not let me rest, I'm not fucking dealing with that shit, Jim. I'm not torturing myself while you sit on your fucking high horse and watch everyone work for you while you get your fucking shoes shined. You couldn't function without me, so--"

A sharp, sudden pain cut off the sniper's rant; Sebastian hadn't realised what had happened until he touched his temple, where he felt a warm, sticky liquid dribbling down to his chin. When he pulled his fingers away, he saw that they were painted crimson with his blood. He looked down at his boss who had a handgun in his grip, and had clearly smacked Seb in the head with it. To an untrained eye, Jim would look calm, but Sebastian knew better. He knew that he was in trouble when those eyes lacked any colour, and when those small, pale hands were flexing on the trigger of a gun pointed at Seb's shin, as if he were considering firing at his sniper. Jim decided against it, since Seb would need to be able to move well for his missions. Shooting him would be impractical. 

Now that Seb was silent, Jim spoke. 

"Oh Sebastian." Jim sighed, rolling his eyes and then closing them. "You've angered me _very_ much." His face scrunched up in distaste and his free hand pinched the bridge of his nose as he waved the gun around in the other. 

Seb was regretting his speech, and opened his mouth to try and apologise, but Jim cut him off, his eyes still squeezed closed. 

"I could destroy you, 'Bastian. I could rip you apart piece by piece, and when you begged for a bullet in your brain, I would put it in your brother's instead and make you watch as his brains pooled on the floor." Jim sighed, opening his eyes and momentarily savouring the horror in Seb's face before continuing. "But Severin has done nothing wrong, so he can be spared. You, however..." The criminal paused, cocking his head to the side and letting an amused smile dance upon his lips. "You seem to think you're important. Let me offer you a reality check." 

Quite suddenly, Jim was in Sebastian's space, snarling and spitting into his face. "You're _replaceable_ , Sebastian!" He sang, giggling with glee. The sniper tried to step back but the barrel of a gun was abruptly pressed into the wound on his temple which stopped him from moving away. "You're not _special_. Your skills aren't unique, there are plenty of people out there who could do what you do." Jim's other hand began to trace Seb's clenched jaw, which made him shiver. Jim giggled when he saw hurt flash in the blond's bright blue eyes. "I could survive without you, and don't think I won't if you continue to step out of line, _kitten_." The patronising twist on Seb's nickname made anger flare up again, though this time is was dulled by the hurt Jim's words inflicted. The genius rose the gun again and slapped Sebastian a second time in the same place, earning a hiss of pain from the sniper. Jim's free hand found Seb's hair and he yanked it up, forcing blue eyes to meet black and causing a grunt from his Tiger.

"Clean your mess up, Sebbie. Or I'll make sure it's your blood on the sheets." Jim sang, before releasing his sniper and swaggering out of their shared room, presumably retreating to his office. 

Perhaps it was the exhaustion that made Sebastian feel so hurt and betrayed, or maybe his feelings for Jim had simply affected the way his emotions worked. Either way, he felt tears sting his eyes as he mechanically began to strip the bed of its sheets. He only let a couple fall, holding the rest back as he replaced the red-stained sheets with clean linen. Once finished, he scrubbed a hand down his face and moved to the bathroom to dump the dirty laundry into its allocated basket, then went to the sink to clean his face up. Eventually, he decided to just have a shower, since it would be more efficient an perhaps help him sleep better. Whilst under the warm spray of cascading water, Seb leant his forehead against the tiled wall, breathing heavily in an attempt to compose himself. Jim's harsh words echoed in his brain, and guilt was eating him up because of his own explosion aimed at his boss. 

With a small sigh, Sebastian cut the water off and dried himself off with a large, fluffy towel. He dressed himself in light grey sweats then set about searching for Jim. He found the madman easily enough; Jim was sat at his desk, his face illuminated by the screen of his MacBook, his phone beside the laptop as he typed. He didn't look up when Seb entered, just paused his writing to sip his tea before getting back to work, completely ignoring his sniper's existence. The neglect only served to make Seb's chest tighten some more. 

"Jim?" Seb asked warily. When he got no reply, he ventured closer. "Jim, I'm--"

"You cried. Your eyes are red." Jim said, again not looking at Sebastian; he sounded vaguely disappointed. Seb didn't bother to deny the accusation, and so the genius spoke again. "Did you change the linens?" 

"Yes, Boss."

Jim hummed and nodded once, then closed his laptop after a few more taps at the black keys. He stood, walking out of the door with Sebastian at his heels. Without a word, the genius stripped off his expensive suit and slipped into bed, turning on his side so he was facing away from Seb. Swallowing hard, the gunman followed, ignoring the ache in his chest when he realised he was practically alone in bed; he found that he missed the warmth Jim provided when he used Seb as a pillow. Luckily, his sleep-deprived mind allowed him to fall into unconsciousness with ease, despite his anchor being so far away. 

In the morning, Seb woke to the feeling of a weight on his chest. He blinked his eyes open blearily, and spotted a mass of black hair. Momentarily, he was confused as to why his boss has changed his mind, though was distracted from his thoughts when a low, soft voice muttered to him.   
"Go back to sleep, moron."   
Seb smiled at the insult and kissed Jim's head, while tangling their feet together. He wouldn't say it, but he knew Jim hadn't meant what he said the previous night. After all, if Seb wasn't valued by the genius, then why was he still alive despite his mistakes?

Evidently he was thinking too loudly, because soon he felt a sharp, warning pinch to his ribs. Seb sighed and submitted to Jim's request, closing his eyes again and letting himself drift into a more contented sleep than before, his arms raising to wrap around Jim's waist. 

**Author's Note:**

> I like angst. I'm sill trying to find my feet in the fanfic world, so constructive criticism is welcome. Thank you for reading!


End file.
